


Black Ice, Red Asphalt

by Josies



Series: No Saints Without Sinners [10]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, One Shot, Saints Row 2 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-15 09:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12318081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josies/pseuds/Josies
Summary: The night following Carlos' death takes an unexpected emotional turn.





	Black Ice, Red Asphalt

**Author's Note:**

> There's a small reference to 'A Family That Kills Together' near the end. Pls excuse my boss for being angry throughout SR2.

 

* * *

**August 2009**

* * *

 

"I don't care if you gotta suck Monica Hughes' dick, just find me that bitch! Now!"

Shaundi and Pierce both flinch when something breaks behind the bar counter again. They kind of hope Doris had sent them out to chase down a specific Brotherhood member, too, like the rest of their crew. They understand she doesn't want them running around outside on their own, what with a rival gang targeting her lieutenants, but sitting around doing nothing gets quickly frustrating in a situation like this. Watching Doris smash her phone down to the counter and flip another bar stool over every time she ends a call doesn't help much, either. They've seen her fury spike up to new heights before, but never like this. She's about to blow like an Ultor engineered weapon of mass destruction and take half the planet with her.

"Boss." Pierce nods towards the stairs. She turns around to see Johnny appear on top of them. He walks down the stairs to the mid-level with his hands stuffed in his pockets, clearly unaware of whatever's been going on that day.

"Yo, what's—" He doesn't get to finish his sentence, because Doris storms right up to him and she punches him in the face without holding back. She strikes right between his cheekbone and jaw, and then she shakes her hand to relieve some of the backlash pain she instantly feels as she continues to storm a few more steps up the staircase, looking offended over how hard his bones are. It's like punching steel.

Shaundi falls a cautious step back on the stairs. She followed Doris, but now she looks shocked, because she didn't quite expect her to do _that_. They do bicker about stuff all the time like an old married couple, but she's never seen them have an actual fight. She's never seen the Boss being so mad at Johnny. Having no idea of what's going to follow, keeping a safe distance seems like the best option.

Johnny looks just as shocked for a second. He blinks as the pain spreads across his cheek and jaw. For a woman her size, Doris packs a hefty punch. He'd be impressed if he actually knew why he deserved getting punched like that. Now it just makes him mad. "What the hell, man?" He lets out an annoyed grunt. His jaw aches when he speaks.

"Where the fuck were you?!" Doris' words echo around the hall. Johnny notes the place is empty of crew members and strippers. It's never empty. Only her brother, Felipe, sits on a couch downstairs, holding his head in his hands. He doesn't look at them, doesn't seem one bit surprised of his sister's reaction.

Johnny rubs his cheek and throws a glare at her. "The hell was that for? I ain't done shit to you," he snaps back at her, ignoring her question, which quickly proves to be a mistake on his part.

She spins around on top of the stairs, shaking, grabs an empty beer bottle from the marble railing and throws it at Johnny. He doesn't try to dodge it, his pride always keeps him from moving out of the way of whatever's coming at him, unless it's a bullet. The bottle hits his shoulder and shatters.

"I tried to call your selfish ass about seven hundred times, you piece of shit!" She yells, bringing out her anger more with every word that leaves her mouth. She'd throw another bottle at his good-for-nothing head if she had one.

"Yo, Boss, maybe you should calm down," Pierce says, but she shoots him a warning look, and he stands back. He knows better than to oppose. Right now it's even riskier than usual.

Johnny looks pissed, just about ready to grab their furious leader and throw a punch back at her. He swipes pieces of broken glass off his shoulder. "Mind fuckin' explainin' why you flip out on me like this?"

"Carlos is dead," Shaundi says, her voice cracking. Her eyes are red, but for once it's not for smoking too much pot. She's been crying.

"What?"

"You deaf now, too? That why you didn't hear your fuckin' phone?" Doris asks.

"Yo, what happened?" Johnny turns to Shaundi, since he's clearly getting nothing but salt from his best friend.

Shaundi takes a deep, shuddering breath before she speaks. "They tied him to the back of a truck and pulled him around on the streets until he—"

"You don't need to say it." Doris interrupts her. She catches Johnny's attention back with an icy look. "His stupid ass'd know if he'd been there."

"I was busy."

"You were _busy_? Are you fuckin' kiddin' me, Gat? That's all you got to say?" She lets out a disbelieving laugh as she shakes her head. "I needed your help and you didn't bother answerin'!"

"I might call you Boss, but I ain't your bitch," he says in a cold tone.

"No shit! You're supposed to be my first lieutenant — my second-in-command — but you're never fuckin' here! You just expect me to run this damn crew by myself while you're out there doing whatever the fuck you feel like!"

It's true Johnny hasn't been around as much as he should have. He's been distant lately and she's done her best to give him space. He thought he could go back to normal after hunting down and wiping out all the Ronin stragglers left in Stilwater, thought he could leave what happened behind him like any other renowned sociopath would. It's been four months. He still misses Aisha and he doesn't fucking know how to handle the guilt. And while he's been occupied with figuring out how to live with himself, he's failed to notice how much Doris misses him, how much she fears their friendship won't return to how it was before, and it's finally manifesting in her behavior.

Johnny's frown deepens as he notices the faint line of white powder on top of her upper lip, stuck on the outline of her lipstick. "And when'd you have time to do coke?" He asks.

"Let's see, I'm not sure." She overacts thoughtfulness by pressing her index finger to her cheek and tilting her head to the side. "Maybe it was right after I shot Carlos in the head to end the torture? Yeah, after that I came here to do a few lines, and now I'm gonna go find that bitch Jessica, rip her fuckin' face off and send it to Maero in the mail!"

"You ain't going nowhere," Johnny snaps at her.

She stares down at him from the top of the stairs. Her voice is filled with spite when she repeats his words. "I ain't your bitch."

"Still being one right now."

"Fuck you, Gat. For real, fuck you."

"Oh, fuck you, too."

"You know what? I'm done with your ass."

"The feeling's mutual."

"Great, find yourself another crew to fuck over!"

"Great!"

She storms into the hallway without another word. They can hear her noisily rummaging through things in the small bedroom next to the elevator. Johnny lifts his arms up to hold the back of his head with both hands and he paces around on the mid-level in front of the Saint of all Saints statue. He curses quietly to himself. Then Doris slams a door upstairs as a sign of leaving, making him grab an almost full bottle of beer someone left by the statue and throw it into a wall as some kind of a despising response to her rampage.

Shaundi watches him simmering in place, his back turned to her. He doesn't move, or show any sign of going after Doris. Realizing they need someone else to be the bigger person, here, she climbs up the stairs to reach him and she touches his shoulder to get his attention. "Johnny."

"What?"

"Go after her," she tells him, and continues before he gets to protest, "You can't let her leave like that. She's gonna do something she'll regret."  
He's quiet for a second. Then he turns to Shaundi. "You heard her, I ain't part of this crew no more," he says, and she expects him to frown, like he always does. That's all he did in jail. After they got out she's seen him grin less than ten times. And that was before he lost Aisha, because after that he went back to excessive frowning. This time his eyebrows aren't knit together, though. His jawn isn't set and his lips aren't pursed into a thin line. She's not entirely sure what to make of his face with her puffy eyes, but the first thing that comes to her mind is just plain sadness.

"She didn't mean that," she says softly.

And the unidentified emotion's gone. Johnny's back to frowning. "And how'd you know?"

"You're her best friend. I don't know why there's so much tension between you two, but she needs you. You know she does." Shaundi sounds like she's about to start crying again. Her lower lip quivers a little. "Johnny, please. She won't listen to anyone else. I don't wanna lose her, too."

Johnny agrees that one death a day sure is enough, so he nods and mutters a quiet shit under his breath as he squeezes Shaundi's shoulder before he hurries to catch Doris, even if he highly doubts she'll listen to him, either. He can hear the loud clicking of her heels against the dusty floors. She took the long way up, instead of the elevator, and he follows her. It's dark and he still hasn't memorized the right way, probably never will. Why didn't she just take the damn elevator?

"Boss, wait!" He shouts after her, knowing full well she won't. He runs past a few barrels that have been clearly moved in one of the rooms, which reminds him they stashed some weapons there months ago. He'd call her a dumbass for what she's doing, but going after people who want to kill you is definitely smarter with guns. Johnny can't argue with that logic.

"I don't need you anymore!" She yells back at him, not slowing down, as expected.

"You can't go off on a murder spree! You'll get yourself killed!"

He finally sees her on top of yet another flight of stairs. She's already on the ground level and she's carrying a bag on her shoulder. Johnny sprints up to grab a hold of her arm, but she quickly turns around and shoves him off.

"Don't fuckin' touch me!"

"I don't give a shit about what you want when your plan's to go get killed. Quit being selfish." He tries not to shout back at her, tries to stay calm, but she takes a step forward, so he grabs a hold of the bag. She stares at him for a second, then releases her grip on the strap, leaving all the bag's weight for him to support.

"Fine. Keep 'em." Doris turns around again to walk outside, but he tosses the bag aside, like it's full of feathers instead of guns, and he shoves her into a wall. He can try all he wants, but he's never been good at keeping his calm. Her shoulder hits the stone wall hard enough to form a big bruise later on and she winces in pain. "I told you not to touch me!" She snaps at him.

"I told you I don't care."

"I'm leavin'. Get outta my way, Gat."

He doesn't move, just stares her down in hopes of stalling her long enough to have her calm down a little, and maybe even give some thought to what she's doing. "What you gonna do? Fight your way out?" He asks.

She glares back at him, holding her shoulder. She's well aware she can't leave the building as long as he won't let her, that he could beat the shit out of her if he wanted to, but she's having none of it. Shaundi was right saying she'll do something she'll regret. "You think I want you pretendin' to keep my ass safe so you'd feel better about being too fuckin' incompetent to save your fuckin' girlfriend?"

It's the first and the only time Johnny ever hits her out of anger. She's barely finished speaking when the back of his hand strikes her across the face. The shock of it nearly makes her lose her balance. He swears he'll never do it again as he watches her falling back against the wall and sliding down the floor, all that rage inside her turning into a deep, soul-eating grief. His knuckles ache. Her cheek burns. She shakes, her jaw set, fingernails digging deep into the flesh of her palms.

It's also the first time Johnny's ever seen her cry out of sorrow. She wants to scream and wail and punch the wall behind her until her knuckles break and bleed, but all she manages are silent tears streaming down her face, while her body shakes and her lungs feel like they're about to burst inside her chest. She can't remember when she cried last, can't remember when she _could_ cry. The longer she kept suppressing her own feelings to avoid showing weakness to other people, the harder it became for her to cry even when she wanted to, and eventually she forgot how. She told herself anger's better; anger will keep her alive.

Johnny stares at her still fighting her own emotions from taking over. The anger inside him subsides. He gets slowly down to sit next to her on the dirty floor. She moves away from him. He grabs her hand, pulls her back and wraps his arms around her, and she tries to shove him off, but he won't let her. She bangs her fist to his chest, but her hand feels weak, so she does it again out of frustration. He takes a hold of her hand and lowers it down to her lap.

"Stop fightin'," he says. "You gotta let it out."

And as much as she doesn't want to hear it, as much as she'd prefer him telling her to suck it up and stop crying, there's something about him saying those words while holding her to his chest in the dark that makes the wall she's so carefully built around herself over the years crumble down. Not fully, but just enough to let him in. She puts her hands inside his jacket and wraps her arms around him, and she buries her face in his shirt as she gives in and begins sobbing hopelessly. Johnny leans his chin on top of her head and he holds her through it. He's not sure how long they sit there, because once she starts crying, she can't stop. His phone vibrates in his pocket, but he ignores it. His ass freezes on the cold floor, but he ignores that, too. He strokes her back while chain-smoking. Her sobs turn softer, and he thinks she's reached her limit, only to realize she just needed a moment to gather up strength to cry even harder. It happens three times. Then, when he's lost count of how many cigarettes he's had, she reaches for the one burning away between his lips. He hands it over. She coughs a little while finishing it.

"I had to shoot him." Doris finally speaks up in a raspy voice after what feels like hours of crying. "I panicked. I couldn't break him free. His face was gone."

"You did what you had to do, Doe," he replies quietly, holding her a little tighter to his chest.

"I left him there—in the rain. I shot him and I left him alone."

"He's not there anymore."

"I shoulda tried harder, taken him to a hospital, anythin'. I can't believe I just left him."

"You did everythin' you could. He wouldn't have survived that. You woulda only prolonged the inevitable by takin' him to a hospital. He woulda ended up dying in a lot of pain and agony. You gave him mercy."

She tenses up in his arms. "How would you know? You weren't there."

"Doe, you know I'm right. Even if they managed to keep him alive, a life like that wouldn't have been worth livin'." He presses half of his face into her hair and his voice turns muffled. "I shoulda been there. I'm sorry I wasn't."

She relaxes again and leans her head to his chest. She curls up her body against him, hoping to catch more of the warmth he radiates. She's tired and freezing in clothes that don't cover up enough of her skin and the coke she did earlier is wearing off. As much as she dislikes this type of human contact, the comfort Johnny's offered her a few times has always felt good. "He didn't deserve what happened to him. It was fuckin' horrible. He didn't deserve that."

"You're right, he was a good kid," he replies. "We'll fuckin' tear that gang apart and we'll do it for him. I'll help you in any way I can. You just tell me what to do."

"Thanks, Johnny."

"Sorry I hit you."

"I hit you first." She shrugs. "And clearly I needed to get punched. Or slapped. It was more of a back-handed slap."

"Still. Doesn't make it right," he says, and he's not wrong, but it doesn't much matter to her. She doesn't blame him. "Your skull would break like glass if I punched you."

"Why you gotta make it sound like I'm frail?"

"You ain't frail. Far from that."

Doris lets out a small, approving noise. She knows what she needs to say next, and she wants to look Johnny in the eye while she does, but the slight unease she feels over crying like that in front of him keeps her head to his chest and her gaze down. "I'm sorry about what I said. I got no right to mention her like that."

"It's not like you were wrong," he admits, and it isn't easy for him, but showing so much vulnerability to him couldn't have been easy for Doris, either. He feels closer to her. "Though I'm not pretendin' when I try to keep your dumb ass safe. I'm not a good enough person to pretend I care."

He expects her to ask him wouldn't it be considered bad to pretend to care about people, and wouldn't that make him worse than the pretenders, to which he would respond with an ironic _exactly_ , but the only thing she whispers is, "You're good enough for me."

And whatever it is her words make him feel, he pushes that feeling aside, doesn't give it a name. It's not the right time, not for either of them. Maybe one day he'll go back to thinking about them sitting on that cold, dirty floor for hours, how she cried like she hadn't in years and how he held her through it, how she let him see her broken and raw and real. Maybe he won't go back to it. He just knows he cares about her enough to let her say all the hurtful truths she could ever come up with, and he still wouldn't want to hurt her, he wouldn't try to hurt her. Doing so would turn his apology meaningless and Johnny doesn't apologize unless he means it.

He's not all sure how to respond, though, so he changes the subject. "Come on, I'll take you home. We'll grab something to eat on the way. You can't live on drugs."

Doris just nods. She has no will left in her to argue, which shows him he's right to feel worried about her, and that he'll need to watch after her tonight, and for the next coming days, just to be safe. His bad knee gives in a little under him as he stands up, but he shrugs the pain off, and he pulls her up with him. She blows her nose and he's never seen a person look so miserable before. She shivers. He takes his jacket off and puts it on her shoulders, and then he walks her out of the building.

 

* * *

 

Doris wakes with her heart in her throat. She blinks in the faint, white light and swallows. Her mouth's dry. Whether it was the nightmare she had, or the light of the TV in her eyes that woke her, she's not sure. Johnny's snoring quietly behind her on the couch and she's resting her head on his arm. His other arm's flung over her stomach. She doesn't remember falling asleep like that with him. She takes a hold of his wrist and squints her eyes at his watch to make the time out in the faint light. It's a little past five in the morning.

The first thing she wants is to have a smoke, but she's too exhausted to get up. Johnny's warm, he always is, and no one's held her like this in a long time. She rolls around and presses her face in his shirt, allowing herself the rare chance of comfort while he's asleep and unaware. It feels good being so close to him and she snuggles in closer and tries to fall back asleep.

She's dozing off when it hits her — what she saw in her nightmare wasn't just that. Everything she went through happened in real life, too, and it all went down only a few hours ago. It all floods back into her mind crystal clear. It's impossible to sleep like that. Her mood takes an abysmal turn. She moves Johnny's arm, doing her best to be careful not to wake him, and she pushes herself up. He keeps snoring. She runs her fingers on his bare arm, tracing a long scar from one end to the other. She has no idea how he got it, and for a passing moment she wishes she could keep him from getting any new ones, which is truly ironical, since she gave him the worst kind of scar months ago. The kind that left no mark on his skin, save for the close to identical one inch scars on the left side of his abdomen and his back from the blade that Jyunichi put through him, which was her fault, too. Everything's her fucking fault.

Doris sighs and flings her feet over the edge of the couch, meaning to go look for a pack of cigarettes, but she manages to step right over a takeaway paper bag. The loud, crinkly sound it makes in the otherwise quiet apartment feels damaging to eardrums. Her brow knits together in exaggerated agony and she squeezes her eyes shut. Johnny's snoring pauses, and for a few seconds she's sure he's going to grunt something about her being awake, but then he rolls to lie on his back and continues to snore a little louder. She exhales and opens her eyes. She doesn't want him awake right now, needs a moment for herself.

After kicking the paper bag and a pair of shoes out of the way, she gets up on her feet to stretch her sore back. Her spine pops. She locates Johnny's jacket lying on a chair and she puts it over her shoulders. His cigarettes are in the pocket. She turns around to look at him again and she leans down to take his glasses off and reaches for a blanket hanging on the back of the couch to throw it over him. Then she grabs her phone and a half full soda cup off the coffee table, and she heads out to the balcony.

It's still raining outside. The ice cubes that were in the cup have melted hours ago, the fizz is long gone and the soda tastes watery. It's warm and disgusting. She takes another sip for her dry mouth. Small drops of water land on her face when she walks up to the railing. Once she has a lit cigarette between her lips, she takes her phone, opens the contacts list and starts scrolling through the names. Holding the phone up to her ear she listens to the audible ringing repeating five times until he answers.

_"Hey."_

"Huh, didn't think you'd pick up."

_"Don't think I got much of a choice here."_

"Funny, I don't remember threatenin' you."

_"Not yet."_

"Good to keep expectations realistic, I guess." She pauses and switches her weight from one foot to the other. She's barefoot and the tile floor is freezing cold. "You know why I'm callin', Troy."

 _"Unfortunately, yeah."_ He sounds grim. And tired. She almost feels for him.

"Shouldn't you be sleepin', though?"

" _Too busy trying to keep this shitshow under control._ "

"As diligent as always."

He ignores her mocking tone. He's not up for that right now. _"Mendoza died of a gunshot wound to the head. Was it them?"_

"No. That was me."

_"Sorry to hear that."_

"I'm sure you are."

_"I assume you also shot the driver."_

"You wanna come arrest me?"

_"You know I only talk with you on a prepaid phone. This isn't official."_

"I want his body, so we can bury him."

_"That's not—"_

"He didn't have anyone else." She interrupts him. "His only brother got shanked."

Troy sighs. _"You know there's an investigation going on."_

"We made a fuckin' deal."

 _"And you think I can just sweep this under the rug? A brutal gang murder that's about to shake the whole damn city awake?"_ His tone turns harsh, but then he pauses, running his fingers through his hair. _"Valderamma was all up my ass five minutes after I found out. This is bad."_

"Not my problem."

_"Nothing's your fuckin' problem."_

"I got plenty. The press ain't one."

She's right. The press isn't her problem, but it doesn't change the fact that she's being a bitch, making it harder for him to give her what she wants. Sometimes a little decency, maybe even humility, goes a long way, and she often forgets it. Or she just doesn't want to condescend into doing something so humane. God forbid her reputation suffering such a blow.

_"Would it kill you to not play the tough bitch role when you wanna ask me for something?"_

"No, Troy. It wouldn't kill me, but me being soft and obedient does get people around me killed. Or do I need to remind you? That it starts with Lin?"

_"What happened to Lin wasn't your fault."_

"Yeah? I was the only one who coulda saved her. I didn't. I was weak."

Troy falls silent. Whatever he could tell her to assure her Lin's death was on Julius, and how the man put too much faith in how much his lieutenants could handle on their own, she's not going to believe him. Johnny's probably told her the same thing more than once. Everyone told Doris it wasn't her fault after she got out of the hospital. She chased down and killed William Sharp, all the while ignoring the gunshot wound he gave her first, and she nearly bled to death for it. He still doesn't know how the hell she did it and weak is the last thing he would call her.

"We were in that trunk and I kicked her and she used her lighter to untie me," she continues. Her voice turns tense and quiet. Regretful, in other words. "That fuckin' river's much deeper than you'd think. She was with me, and then she just wasn't. She saved my stupid ass, and I coulda saved her, too. I coulda saved them both." She swallows down the lump in her throat, forcing herself to pull it together. She can't cry now. "I need to make sure Carlos gets to rest in peace. Let me bury him."

He sighs again as he sits down on his couch to finish his third cup of black coffee. He usually has Sundays off, but the press won't wait until Monday for his statement, and he prefers not having them go digging for too much information on their own. He can never sleep when he knows a shitstorm with the press' about to hit him, so he chose to pull an all-nighter. _"Fine. You'll have his body."_

"When?"

_"Soon. I'll do what I can to hurry the process."_

"Just make it happen. Lemme know when I can start makin' arrangements."

 _"Wait,"_ he says. _"I know now's not the time, but I need to ask you a favor."_

"Suppose it doesn't hurt to try."

_"The kid meant a lot to you, I know that much. You got every right to want revenge and I don't doubt for a second you're not gonna act on it. Just... whatever it is you're planning, don't do it. Don't make this worse."_

"Don't make this _worse_?" She nearly yells the last word as she slams her hand down on the balcony railing. "They made it worse by chainin' a kid to the back of a truck and draggin' him around on the roads until every bone in his body broke! That fuckin' redhead whore made sure his face got ruined to the point I could only identify him 'cause I already knew they took Carlos!"

_"Okay, calm down."_

Doris bites down on her teeth and she shuts her eyes tight. Looking at the falling rain keeps her wondering over and over again if the rain has washed out all that blood on the ground already. "I'm surprised you even found out who he was. He lost half of his teeth."

_"I'm not saying what they did was right in any way. I'm just asking you not to go crazy on the whole eye-for-an-eye business."_

"I'm gonna take a whole fuckin' family for an eye."

_"You're gonna get yourself killed like that."_

"Who gives a shit? You?" She snorts. "You probably sleep with one eye open fearin' I'm gonna break in and murder you."

"I barely get any sleep trying to fix all the shit you keep pulling."

"Oh yeah? I wiped out the Ronin, and the Samedis are about to take whatever they got left and flee the city, too. You're gonna get all the sleep you want once I'm done with the Brotherhood. You can fuckin' thank me then."

Troy figures his last card is to bring up something they discussed the first time they met after she woke from the coma. She asked him questions he couldn't answer. He still can't give her the straight answers, but an implied one might help. _"You know, I didn't let them pull the plug. I kept your family out of it. I know you won't kill me. Might even take my side if it somehow comes to that."_ He pauses, thinking over what he's about to say, didn't believe he'd be telling her anything like this, to be honest. _"We were friends once. I'm asking you—shit. I'm asking you as a friend."_ He waits for her to reply, but the only thing he hears is the low static on the phone line. He grows nervous. _"Doe?"_

When she finally speaks up, she states every word slowly and carefully, as if to make sure he won't forget them. Her voice chills his insides. "I'm gonna kill every last one carryin' those fuckin' colors. I don't care if I have to burn down half the city. I just don't give a shit. There will be nothin' left of the Brotherhood, 'cause I will slaughter them like the animals they are, and I won't stop until I've destroyed them and everyone close to them. Whoever's stupid enough to stand in my way will die a slow, agonizing death; the type that will have them turn religious just to pray to whatever god might be listenin' that they never met me, that they never fucked with my crew, that they were never brought into this world to begin with, or any possible parallel universe I could exist in."

_"There's gotta be another—"_

"Do what you will with that info, Troy. Just do us both a solid and don't get in my fuckin' way. This is the only warning you get. Stay out of it."

Doris hangs up before he gets another word in and shoves her phone into the pocket of Johnny's jacket. She can't feel her feet. She clasps her fingers around the balcony railing so tight her knuckles turn white. She stares at the view of the city opening up around her. She loves it, all of it, but Carlos was like family to her, and the fact that she failed to protect him, that she had to hold his trembling hand and watch him try to give her one last reassuring smile with barely anything left of his face, that he tried to let her know he's okay with what's about to happen — it's going to change who she is. It's going to change her and she's going to let it. She'll tear down her own city if she has to.

She turns around and walks back inside while wiping her eyes in frustration. Johnny's still sleeping, so she lets the jacket drop to the floor and she settles back next to him under the blanket. She sticks her cold feet between his legs, stealing his warmth, and she hopes he won't stir awake for the next few hours.

 

* * *

 


End file.
